


Like You Never Dreamed

by unsettled



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cap woken differently, Gen, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wakes up to Tony instead of the wrong baseball game. This isn't the worst thing that could happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like You Never Dreamed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).



> I ended up combining several au's from the_plaid_slytherin's list here: Cap woken differently, team meeting differently, and Iron Man's identity a secret. It ended up delving less into all of those than I thought it would, but I hope it's an enjoyable read all the same! Could be read as gen or preslash.

"Oh shit," a voice says, almost familiar. "You're waking up, you're not supposed to be waking up yet, shit."

Steve's eyes open, and he's staring at Howard.

He blinks, and no, that's wrong, this isn't Howard; whoever this is looks a lot like him but it's slightly wrong in the little details he knows well. 

He's staring at a not quite good enough copy of Howard, who's worried that he's waking up, in a room that he doesn't recognize. His reaction is hardly planned – he's lurching up and grabbing at the man without really thinking about it, only to fall over when his legs don't seem to want to work right, taking the other man with him. They land together on the floor and Steve pins him.

"Who are you?" he says, sharp and angry, pressing down. "Where am I?" 

The man, who has been babbling a string of 'No no no wait, stop no really wait' at him, yelps. "I’m a friend!" he says, "It's ok, I’m not an enemy, you're alright."

Steve shakes him a little. "Who are you?" he asks again, frustrated.

The man pauses, then flashes a brilliant smile. "Hi," he says. "Tony Stark, nice to meet you." 

Steve blinks at him. Doesn't ease up. "Stark? Like Howard Stark?'

Tony's face goes slightly blank for a second. "Sort of," he says. "It's a little complicated. Come on, let me up, are you going to let me up? Because really, you're heavy and this is awkward, this is awkward right, I’m not the best at telling when something is awkward but I think this is-"

"Well, you sound like Howard," Steve says, and drops his arm from where it's been pressed against Tony's throat as he leans back a bit. "I didn't know he had relatives."

"Can you just let me up?" Tony says, starting to sound a bit impatient, and Steve relents. He doesn't think this man is a danger to him, and it's not like he can't take him down again in an instant if he needs to. 

"Where am I?" he asks as Tony stands, brushing off his clothes. Not that it's doing much good; they're covered in stains and burn marks and bits of dust and crud, much like his hair, which is rather wildly tousled. There's a smear of something dark, maybe grease or soot, on one cheek. He looks so much like Howard after a several day inventing spree that Steve feels the corners of his mouth tick up. "What day is it?" 

"Yeah," Tony says, "about that..."

*

It takes a bit for Steve to really believe what Tony's telling him. Despite all the pictures he's shown and the footage Tony plays and bizarre technology surrounding him, it's not until Tony sighs and herds him into an elevator that takes them up to the top of the building, not until he steps outside, high above the city, gleaming silver and gold and neon in the early evening, that he finally lets himself believe it. 

He'd really rather not believe it. 

He grips the railing and stares out across the buildings, at everything that looks so _different_ , until the metal deforms in his hands, and begins to understand: everything is gone. 

"Can I … have a minute?" he asks.

"Yeah," Tony says, "I'll just..." he waves his hands, and retreats. 

The depth of that realization is hovering on the edge of his mind, and he really, really doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't really want to know what happened to Peggy, or Howard, or the Commandos, or anything, he just wants to go back to sleep and wake up and have this all be some crazy, wild dream. He squeezes his eyes shut and for a long moment, pretends. 

When he finally turns around to go back inside, Tony's standing in behind the wall of windows, a glass in one hand, watching him with something that looks almost like concern. 

*

It's a few days before he asks Tony much beyond 'did we win?", a few weeks before he asks for more details than 'dead or still alive', and nearly two months before he asks if he can see any of the few who remain.

Tony sets down the bits of metal he'd been fiddling with and turns to look squarely at Steve. "You're not a prisoner here, Steve," he says, "of course you can see them."

"I know," Steve says, "but..."

Tony watches him for a minute while Steve struggles to find the words he wants. "Do you want to see them?" Tony asks, finally.

 _No._ "Yes," he says, and then, "no. I- not yet."

Tony doesn't say anything for a while, and Steve doesn’t either, just watches when he eventually turns back to his work. 

*

Steve spends a lot of time learning about things. About stuff. About everything. 

He spends a lot of time working out, too, but that's more solitary than the learning. 

Because the thing is, Tony is more than willing to help talk him through things and offer up bits and pieces of information and suggest more resources for Steve to use. That first week, Tony had told him 'you have any questions, need anything, just ask Jarvis," and Steve had, but. 

Jarvis is great for facts, for history, for guidance on how to turn on the ridiculously complicated shower in his quarters. But it is Tony he goes to when he wanted to actually find out how things worked, how things happened, how things were. Tony teaches him (badly) how to make a smoothie, how to use a tablet (not so badly), how to listen to the news without wanting to scream (sometimes. Sometimes Tony does enough screaming for the both of them). 

He goes to Tony when he wants to remember that he is human, and sometimes Tony does too good a job of reminding him. 

*

Everything in Tony's house is the latest tech (or so he's told), and what that means for him is that it's all very, very strange. Very different. Very alien. 

That's not a bad thing. Because when the walls talk to him and things turn on without him touching them and everything seems to be controlled by blue holograms that float in midair, it's a little bit easier to pretend that maybe this is all just a strange dream, that maybe he's in one of those pulp novels and has been taken by aliens, that it isn't real. That he hasn't actually woken up seventy years in the future where everything and everyone he knew is _gone_.

Sometimes it frustrates him beyond belief, because he doesn't want to use the holograms or the seemingly magic piece of glass – tablet – that seems to do everything, he wants actual controls he can hold, paper he can touch and crumple and have positive proof of it existing. 

But sometimes it's more comforting to feel like he's living in some crazy, fake adventure; so when things become too easy and familiar, he goes and pokes Tony to show him something new and complicated so he can focus on that alien feeling rather than the creeping, overwhelming sense of loss. 

One time, when Tony's been sneaking peeks at Steve determinately poking at a control set for hours without making real progress in getting it right, he straight up stops what he's been doing and just watches. 

"I could just recalibrate that for you," he says, as Steve moves a little too fast and the holograms spin wildly out of control. "Juice it up for super soldier speed," and waggles his fingers at Steve. 

Steve snorts. "No," he says, "I don't want anything like that special for me. I want to learn it right, I can get it if I keep trying." Tony rolls his eyes and flicks a bolt at Steve; he catches it and flicks it back, gently, but Tony still dives out of the way all the same. 

"Did they give you super patience along with everything else?" Tony gripes.

"I must have gotten all of your share as well," Steve says, and is rewarded with one of Tony's great faces of disgust. "Besides," he says, "what if some day I have to use something that isn't set up for me? What if I have to use something that isn't even StarkTech?"

Tony gasps and flings a hand over his heart. "Blasphemy!" he says, and Steve laughs. 

*

Steve finds that he likes Tony's company. Apparently, as he's informed by one (pretty, intimidating, and extremely competent) Pepper Potts, this means that Tony must be slipping something into his food, which Tony protests loudly because it's not like he even sets foot in the kitchen. 

Steve thinks that's a little harsh. Sure, Tony can be a jerk sometimes, but he's no worse than Bucky ever was. Steve's seen some of the videos of Tony's exploits – Tony showed a few of them to Steve himself, laughing about them the whole time – but Tony doesn't seem to act like that as much as far as Steve can tell. 

Tony's not as confident as Bucky, though. Sometimes Steve catches Tony looking at him, almost confused, a little bit wary, like he's uncertain why Steve is seeking him out, is still sitting there on the couch in Tony's workshop even though he's spent the last four hours totally absorbed in some project, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Steve to disappear or or present some list of demands. 

_I like you_ , Steve wants to say, but he doesn't think Tony would take it all that well.

*

"I don't miss the fighting that much," Steve tells Tony, "but I miss … feeling like I was doing something worthwhile. Something that made a difference."

"So do something that makes a difference," Tony says, slumped on the sofa across from him, toying with a nearly empty tumbler. He waves it around, and Steve is just waiting for the last few sips to come sloshing out. "There's always someone in need of saving." 

Steve sighs. "Yeah," he agrees, "but I look at the world now, and I just – all the conflicts going on, all the horrors, how it's like some things haven't changed a bit, and I don't even know where to start. What would actually do any good."

Tony tilts his head. "You don't have to go back to the military," he says. "Hell, I could bankroll you, even. Start a collection of superheroes."

"Tony," Steve says, amusement showing through his disapproval. "I’m not going to be another Iron Man."

He's met Iron Man, a couple times now. It'd be hard to completely avoid him, seeing as he works with Tony, coming by any time he needs work done on the suit. Which seems to be pretty often. He's not sure what exactly he thinks of Iron Man – he's reckless and brash and dangerous to be around, and Steve's not entirely sure the good he's done entirely outweighs the damage he's caused. 

He knows what Tony thinks of him, though, and Tony won't stand for a word against him. Sometimes Steve wonders if Tony might be taking gratitude for having his life saved a little far, but then – he's not sure what exactly the connection is between them, or what exactly Tony gets out of their partnership, but it's something. Something that Tony values. The suit is obviously Tony's work, but Steve doesn't know which came first – the person in the suit's desire to wear it, or the armor, in need of a pilot. 

"No, no," Tony says, "not really like Iron Man. You need a mission, Steve, something you can get behind. Well, I mean, Iron Man has his missions, but that's personal, really, and that's not you. You don't need to-" he breaks off for a moment, stares into the middle distance, and Steve files that 'personal' away for future consideration. "You need a teeeeeam," Tony says, teasingly, and Steve thinks he might be a little tipsy. 

"Yeah," Tony says, "a team. You need a team, need people to look up to you and follow you and do your bidding," and he's smirking now, "you need minions!"

Steve drops his head into his hands. "I don't need minions, Tony, minions are for villains. I don't need a team either. I just need to figure out somewhere to start."

Tony tosses back the rest of his drink and Steve winces. "You need a team," Tony says, more seriously. "There was this thing, this – initiative. SHIELD," he says, like that's supposed to mean much to Steve beyond something that Tony intermittently rants about. "Not really on books yet, buried deep under a mountain of 'if things come together someday', the Avengers Initiative."

"If it was so buried," Steve asks, "how do you know about it?" 

Tony rolls his eyes at him. "Please," he says, trying for great dignity and falling short. "Like their pathetic security could actually keep me from anything I wanted to know." He stares down at his empty glass. "They wanted – want – Iron Man for it." 

"So your 'deep hacking' is actually gossip from Iron Man," Steve says, grinning. 

"Ugh, shut up," Tony says with a glare. "He said no, anyway. Not really a team player. Lone wolf and all that, yadda yadda."

Steve shakes his head. "Oh, come on, Tony. Not a team player? I’ve seen you two working; that's a team right there. You can deny it if you want, but you're both perfectly capable of working with others." He has seen them working together – more, he's seen the way Tony touches the armor, and talks to it, and he wonders, if maybe, maybe, whoever is inside is someone Tony loved. Wonders if maybe the reason Iron Man said no had nothing at all to do with not wanting a new team. 

Tony's staring at him with a rather surprised expression, his mouth open to deliver a comeback that never comes. "Anyway," he finally says, vaguely, "this Avengers thing. These 'things' they wanted to come together for it, they hadn't even thought of including you, hell, who would think of that really, I mean – but you could be the right focus for it. That little – ha, little – something to make everything else come together."

"I don't know, Tony," Steve says. "it seems a little..."

"You could do some good," Tony says, suddenly sounding a lot more sober. "It could be good for you." 

Steve just looks at him for a moment. There's an almost feverish look of intensity in Tony's eyes, something that catches him, draws him in. "Maybe I'll think about it," he hears himself saying. "Find out a bit more of it, see what they were thinking."

Tony grins at him. "Hell," he says, "with you kicking around maybe even Iron Man would be tempted." 

He thinks about Iron Man's qualities – good, bad, insane. "Wouldn't that be something," he says, half laughing. 

"Yeah," Tony says, quiet as a breath. "Yeah."


End file.
